I had this awesome dog named Mack who was part something and part Chow. I met him in my office building one day. He was a hobo puppy that the girls who owned the advertising agency next door found somewhere and rescued by bringing him to their office. I was walking down the hall one day and he was staring at me through their glass door. He looked like a tiny, friendly, miniature bear. I introduced myself and he seemed to think I was okay. I later mentioned this encounter to the beautiful and witty Mrs. FAX and the next day she came sauntering into my office with the dog, a brand new leash, and a half-dozen or so milk bone biscuits.

Mack kept me around for about 10 years, I guess. Several years ago, he contracted thyroid cancer. He went through surgery okay and got better for a year or so, then he finally just succumbed to the disease ... couldn't eat, couldn't poop properly, in obvious pain ... after one particularly rough episode, I took him to the vet so he could get some relief. Bad day.

After that, I swore that Mack would be the last dog I would ever own. I suppose I got sort of attached to the little fella. Frankly, he was an awesome assistant. He helped me dig in the garden, rake leaves, and kept me company at the office. He was good with a frisbee and stick and ball and finding creative ways to escape the radio fence because he also liked the ladies. To be honest, I think if he had been trained properly, he would have made a fantastic circus dog ... the kind that walks on barrels and jumps through flaming circles and stuff. He was extraordinarily intelligent, nimble, and fleet of foot as many a dead squirrel can attest (if, of course, it were possible for dead squirrels to attest to much of anything ... besides, I'm not sure you can trust anything a squirrel says ... dead or otherwise).

He was independent, though. He had a mind of his own and his own way of doing things. I suppose that was a result of living on the streets as a young dog. He came up the hard way and developed survival skills out of necessity. It was pretty clear that he could live on squirrels and garbage if he needed to. He wouldn't have smelled all that great, but he would have been happy.

Anyhow, I caught myself sitting here in my home office just kind of staring at the space on the floor where he used to keep his rug and I suddenly realized how much I miss him. As I mentioned, I made a pretty firm declaration that I wasn't going to get another dog after Mack on account of the separation anxiety I experienced when leaving the vet's office on that last day. But now I think I'm changing my mind about that. Dogs are pretty cool ... if you can find the right one. Maybe I'll head down to the pound later this week.

I think it's not disrespecting Mack's memory to make a good home for another pet. There are lots of unemployed animals who would really appreciate an opportunity to be your assistant, and who would strive to do a great job.

I think it's not disrespecting Mack's memory to make a good home for another pet. There are lots of unemployed animals who would really appreciate an opportunity to be your assistant, and who would strive to do a great job.

Get another dog. They're truly man's best friend. I wasn't allowed to have one as a kid, and while mine is 8 years old and I hopefully have a few more years with her, I have no doubt I'll be a dog companion for life. I like having her around. I got me 2 bitches!

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Originally Posted by srvy

Well I was gonna blow and swallow instead of the usual gag and spit. But now it will be neither.

put old gabby(lab) down last fathers day. figured i'd go awhile without a dog, but lately i've been thinking of getting another one. the old doghouse is looking pretty empty, and to be honest, after she was gone, nobody really acted like they gave a **** when i got home from work.
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The pain we feel when we lose a pet is terrible. But our lives are much richer for sharing it with them. The give you unconditional love, which money can't buy. A couple of my kitties are getting older, it's going to be crushing when they pass on. But I can't imagine not giving them a forever home. It was, and is, the right thing to do. I hope you you'll open your heart and give another puppy a chance to be your best friend.

I think it's not disrespecting Mack's memory to make a good home for another pet. There are lots of unemployed animals who would really appreciate an opportunity to be your assistant, and who would strive to do a great job.

The main reason I decided I didn't want another dog was just based on the fact that I got awfully attached to Mack and I don't particularly enjoy the sensation of emotional "loss". It seems to me there is one really easy way to avoid that and it's to simply refuse to get a new dog.

Plus ... you're kind of right, Mr. Rain Man ... I know it sounds silly and probably a little crazy, too ... but there's a part of me that does sort of feel as though I'd be trying to replace something that's irreplaceable. And I admit that I'd probably feel a little funny at first if I got a new dog and he started playing with Mack's ball or sleeping on his rug or whatever. On the other hand, if a dog walked in here right now and started chewing on Mack's weasel toy, at least it's being used by somebody (the beautiful and witty Mrs. FAX hardly ever chews on that weasel toy), and that would be a good thing.

But then there's the part that is pretty convinced that I'll never ever find a dog that is as intelligent as Mack was. I mean, the fact is that there's no possible way I could get a "better" dog ... unless it was some kind of bizarre mutant dog that could actually speak English words and carry on a conversation or play board games or something like that. The odds are slim that I can find a dog that is even halfway good at Monopoly or Clue. And generally speaking, the ones that try almost always accuse Mrs. Peacock in the Kitchen with the Rope which gets boring.

So, I don't want a new dog because I don't want the potential pain associated with getting attached ... on the other hand, I'm sitting here feeling a little bad anyhow because Mack's not here and his rug is empty. It's a no-win deal right now. I think I'll go check out the pound.

My other dog I got by while I just put my lab down and was calling the local rescues and getting my name on a list and back ground check from my vet. The local vet tech had a dog she needed to find a home for. She called and brought the dog over and the dog never left.

He digs, he chews, he tries to bite, he hides under the porch whenever you get close...

He's mentally damaged and despite professional training and a lot of one-on-one time, he's nearly impossible to manage.

You have to be careful, that's for sure.

It's funny, though ... I've owned or been around a lot of pure-bred dogs in my life ... labs, setters, pugs, pointers, etc. ... but of all the dogs I've owned, the two that were the best (by far and away) were mutts. One was a German Shepherd mix when I was a kid and the other was Mack. I think there's something to the idea that too much in-breeding creates a dumbass dog.

I understand and appreciate your words of wisdom and caution, Mr. htismaqe, but Mack set a pretty high bar and I'm going to be very selective if I decide to get a new one.